


Smeared Lines

by ThereAreNoNamesForWhatIAm



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:17:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereAreNoNamesForWhatIAm/pseuds/ThereAreNoNamesForWhatIAm
Summary: Washington is exhausted and the day is only just getting started. Of course, Hamilton and Jefferson are bickering again. The president does his best to put a stop to it civilly.(Another not-so-historical fiction, written upon request, for a friend.)





	Smeared Lines

**Author's Note:**

> All right! So, this one is different! Hopefully you all will find it enjoyable! I attempted to depict everyone fairly! (Really, I did!) As always, please forgive historical inaccuracies! There are bound to be a few of them.

George Washington sighed. There was so much to do and so little time to do it. How had he let someone talk him into this? Presidency was a job for a sprightlier individual—George was not that man, in feeling or in expression. A long day, a sleepless night, and an unrelenting headache—caused by poor dental health—were all clouding his mind... and it was only noon.

As if that wasn't enough, he could hear fast approaching footsteps. Oh, and bickering; yes, that was apt. He recognized the voices of the Treasury and State secretaries as they drew near.

“Surely you need not bother the president with this,” Hamilton was saying. Ever the loyal aide, the young man kept a quite a bit of paperwork from ever reaching Washington's desk; an important quality, as far as he was concerned. The less he had, the better.

“Oh? Because you'd rather he not know what you've been up to?” Jefferson retorted.

“Of what do you _accuse_ me, _Sir_?” In typical form, Hamilton snapped back—as he always did when he felt his honor was in question.

“You pretend concern for Washington, when it is your own hide you hope to save. Appalling.”

“As I told you, I've done nothing untoward!”

“We'll see!” Jefferson retorted.

The door to Washington's office burst open. Jefferson looked smug; like he'd found the nails to drive into Alexander's coffin. On the other hand, Hamilton looked chagrined... and a bit murderous.

“Mr. President,” Alexander began, “I didn't want to disturb you with such a trifling matter but...”

“Mr. President!” Jefferson interrupted. Jefferson all but pranced forth, holding up a piece of paper. The writing adorning it was instantly recognizable as Alexander's. There was an ungainly black smudge on the right-hand side, at the bottom. From the looks of it, Jefferson had yanked the paper right off Hamilton's desk as he'd been writing. “Just look at this!” He held it out to Washington.

The president took the offered page and glanced between the two men. “What is it?”

“Read it!” Jefferson stood back to give Washington space.

Alexander's lips were pressed into a thin—irritated—line. He didn't speak, only crossed his arms and waited, looking like a man who _knew_ he'd be acquitted of all charges.

Washington suspected he knew what this was about. Shaking his head, George began reading. Ah, yes... He had asked Alexander to write an upcoming speech for him. The boy had a way with words that rivaled the best Washington had read; thus he was the obvious choice to ask for such things.

“You see, Mr. President? He sighed _your_ name to his work!” Jefferson announced. “ _Fraudulent_ papers passed as yours!”

Washington bit his tongue and pursed his lips. Oh how he wanted to retire to a little wigwam in the middle of nowhere, far from all of this. “Mr. Secretary, _this_...” he held up the paper, “...was done by Secretary Hamilton at my own request. It is a _speech_ , as I'm sure you must have noticed when you took the liberty of proof-reading it.”

“Err... I did notice. I was concerned it may have been a form of code.”

“Kind of you to worry for my sake,” Washington nodded, “But not necessary, I assure you. Secretary Hamilton acted with my knowledge and _approval_.”

Alexander looked mollified. Jefferson most certainly did not.

“Alexander,” Washington started.

“Sir?”

“Thank you for finishing this so promptly.”

“Of course, Sir.” The look Alexander leveled at Jefferson could have quelled a bear. Washington had only seen that expression a few times... Mostly when he'd called Alexander “son.”

Though Jefferson was on the receiving end of such a look, he did not notice. He appeared stunned by the turn of events.

“Is there anything else?” George prompted.

“No; that was it." Hamilton seemed to change his mind, speaking again, "Will that,” Alexander gestured to the speech he'd penned, “be all right? It isn't too smeared to be legible?”

“It will do.”

“I will go back to work, then.” Alexander nodded politely and let himself out.

“As will I.” Jefferson waited until Alexander left to continue. “You understand why I had to mention this to you, don't you?”

“Of course. I do appreciate you keeping my cabinet members honest, Mr. Jefferson.”

Jefferson smiled, at last having been placated. He did however, appear deep in thought. “I too, should get on with my work.”

“Close the door on your way out.”

At last, everything was quiet. George knew it wouldn't last. Still barely past noon, and the day was dragging already. He balefully eyed the stack of paperwork on his desk. It taunted him. He would deal with that later. For now, he had a speech to memorize.

Alone in his office, Washington let a small smile slip. Alexander's neat penmanship scrawls had been saved—all but the last line or two... those had suffered Jefferson's wrath. Clearly, the moment Jefferson had taken to pulling on it, Alexander had let it go, not willing to let the page tear or smudge in a scuffle. Though tarnished, it could still be read with a squinted eye.

George began reading it again—without distraction. He only had a matter of days to have this committed to memory. For a moment, he pondered the idea of asking Hamilton to write up an abridged version. No... The man had enough work. Washington started in on it again, quietly muttering the lines—he learned best that way—so as to recall it better.

**Author's Note:**

> Always a pleasure to share my writing with you all! I hope everyone who reached the end enjoyed it!


End file.
